


The King's New Clothes

by bantha fodder (banthafodder)



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-20
Updated: 2005-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1629425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banthafodder/pseuds/bantha%20fodder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pevensies settled in to being Kings and Queens of Narnia faster than Peter expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King's New Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for templemarker

 

 

"Your Majesty," said Phillius the Steward, "Your advisors request your presence in the Octagonal Room."

"Thank you, Phillius," Peter said, smiling as the man bowed, and pushed himself out of his chair. Susan did not rise from her chair across from him, and as he passed he rested a hand briefly on Susan's shoulder. He watched the quill in her hand as she wrote across the page, and read her words to himself before speaking. "Sister, Did you wish to sit in on this meeting?"

Susan rested the nib of her quill on the edge of the inkwell, and looked up at him, her face wistful, and pushed her sleeves up her arms. "I have much correspondence into which I must enter. Perhaps Edmund could write it for me, for I would much rather accompany you." Susan laughed, her mirth obvious, and Peter leaned forward and kissed the top of her head.

"I shall see you again before I retire," he said, "Keep to your correspondence."

Peter left his study and followed Phillius down the hall. Up ahead, Lucy's skirts flashed blue as she dashed from one door towards another. "Lu!" he yelled, and frowned at himself. He thought it was inappropriate for a King of Narnia to yell so familiarly down the corridors, but when his youngest sister turned and smiled at him, her hair flying in the air behind her, he returned her smile and pushed his worries of propriety away.

"Peter!" she exclaimed. "Where are you going?"

"I have a meeting with some of my advisors-" He broke off as Lucy began talking again.

"I hope you're not leaving again so soon," she said, and Peter quickly closed the distance between them.

"Lucy," he said softly, "You mustn't holler so much. You are a Queen of Narnia now."

Lucy blushed. You might think that Peter was being too harsh on his sister, but kings and queens must behave in a polite and sincere fashion, and Lucy's age was no reason for her not to behave appropriately.

"Of course, Peter," she replied, and her easy compliance made him smile.

"Lucy," he said, and gestured at the fabrics in her arms as if he had not noticed them previously, "What have you got all this for? I don't remember any dress fittings on your schedule."

"I'm washing," said Lucy, "My dresses are dirty, and they're never cleaned properly." The smile she gave was not quite Lucy, and not quite sincere, and Peter worried.

"You are a Queen," said Peter, "You should not be washing your own dresses. Someone else does that for you now." The smile fell off Lucy's face, and Peter wondered how he could have been away so long, and wondered how Susan could have been so unobservant, that Lucy could have thought this was acceptable behaviour for a queen. As he pushed Lucy back to her rooms, he worried about Edmund, for they had never spoken much. "Put these in the laundry basket," he said, and squeezed Lucy's arm before carrying on down the corridor. As Lucy began to swing the door to her chambers shut, he turned. "Lu," he said, "have you seen our brother?"

Lucy tilted her head. "He's in his rooms," she said. "Reading." Lucy shut her door, and the click of the latch echoed through the corridor. Peter kept walking; knocked on the door further down the corridor. In the silence, Peter pushed the door open.

"Edmund," he said, as he gazed around the entertaining area. "Edmund, are you here?"

"Peter." Edmund stepped through another door, and met his brother's eyes. "Do you need me?"

"The advisors have called for me," said Peter. "I thought you might like to come along."

Edmund closed the door to his bedroom, then closed the book in his hands and dropped it onto a cushion. "Come, brother," said Edmund. "Let us guide Narnia."

Peter walked beside his brother through the corridors of the palace, Phillius following behind. "My brother," said Peter, his tone light but low, "I worry about Lucy. Her behaviour is inappropriate."

Edmund glanced at Peter; met Peter's eyes and looked away. "I shall talk to her," said Edmund, and he fell silent.

"My friends," said Peter, as they entered the Octagonal Room. The advisors, three in number, bowed, their heads low, and Peter shook his head. "Please, be seated, and not so formal. We are all friends here."

They sat, and the first advisor, an older, white haired centaur by the name of Rookwid, spoke. "Your Majesties," he said, "Rumours from the North suggest Calormene insurgents are flowing into Narnia."

The second advisor, a dog named Trisophane, shook her head. "These people," she said, "Trying to take advantage of our weakened defences."

"Shush," scolded the third advisor, a fox, Rashnu by name. "The Calormenes are our friends," she said.

Trisophane snapped at Rashnu. "Only when they want to be," she snarled.

Rashnu gasped, as well she should, because snarling is considered a sign of wordless animals. The insult in Trisophane's actions was clear. "Did you snarl at me?" Rashnu inquired, trying to bring levity to the situation.

"I did!" said Trisophane. "The Calormenes are our enemies, and we must strike at them at once." Trisophane turned to Edmund and Peter, who had been sitting there, silent. "My Kings," she continued, "It is for the good of Narnia that I recommend this. We must strike, now, before they have the chance to strike at us."

On either side of the dog, the fox and the centaur shook their heads solemnly. "My friend," said Rookwid, "We must send emissaries to the Calormenes, and offer them treaties and aid." The fox agreed, and Peter nodded at them.

"I cede this task to you, my friends," he said, "As you are wiser and more experienced at these matters than I."

"I think not," interrupted Edmund. Peter turned to stare at his brother, for such an outburst was rude, and unlike him. "Trisophane has my support in this matter, and you, Peter, are the High King, and must cede nothing." Edmund spat the last, and the advisors looked away, worried to be caught up in an argument between kings.

"My brother," said Peter, astonished.

"Brother King," replied Edmund, and met Peter's eyes. Edmund's eyes were clear and firm, with none of the caution and none of the suspicion that the White Witch had cast there. "The decision is yours."

"And it is for my advisors to make," said Peter, and Edmund swept out of the room.

"Forgive my brother," said Peter into the silence, and the advisors bowed.

"Of course, Your Majesty," said Rashnu.

"Please advise me in the morning," said Peter, and stepped out the door.

"It is _Her_ touch," he heard behind him, and it took all his concentration to shut the door without slamming it, for he was very angry, but did not want to take it out on his advisors.

He strode the corridors of the palace, and when he entered his rooms he found his sister Susan still seated at the table, writing swiftly and neatly. "Go to bed," he snapped, and Susan looked at him, confused.

"These things need to be done," she said, "You said so yourself."

"It is late," he said, "and tomorrow we are going on a picnic." He scrawled two notes and opened the door. He yelled for Phillius. "Deliver these to my brother and my sister, Lucy," he said. "And have the kitchens prepare a picnic for the four of us." Peter closed the outer door and swept past Susan, his long cloak rustling in his haste. As he closed his door he watched Susan frown.

He heard the scratching of her quill long into the night, and it displeased him.

He rose with the sun, and found his siblings congregating in his study. "You wanted us?" asked Lucy, and Peter nodded.

"We are going on a picnic," he replied, "and the Kingdom is not coming with us." Peter lead the way through the corridors of Cair Paravel and into the courtyard below. Phillius stood waiting with a retinue and a horse laden with food. Peter frowned. "This will not do," he said, and distributed the food amongst his siblings. Peter bade the retinue to remain behind as Peter shooed his siblings out of the grounds of Cair Paravel.

The Pevensies trampled up the hill and down the beach, and after a short time walking, Edmund breathed loudly and demanded they stop.

Peter looked around. "Here is as good as any place."

They laid out the blanket, and set out the food, and it was a jolly good feast. Lucy laughed as Peter cut the cheese into shapes.

"But I don't understand why we are here," said Susan.

"Because we are not Kings and Queens of Narnia," replied Peter. "Well, we don't have to be, not all the time. Sometimes, we are just school children from England, out in the countryside."

"Maybe we were, but this is so much better." Susan poured a little wine into each glass, and the smell that wafted to Peter's nose was heavenly, much better than anything he had ever drunk in England.

"We still are," insisted Peter.

Edmund laid down on the blanket. "I don't know about you, but I am happy here, Peter. Nobody ever listened to us in England, and now here we are, Kings and Queens and there are no planes."

"I am glad there are no planes," said Lucy. "I do hope Aslan lets us stay."

"Don't be stupid," Edmund scoffed. King as he was, he was still not always a nice boy. "He made us Kings and Queens. Of course he will let us stay."

"We aren't ready!" cried Peter. "Look at us! We argue and fight and play with toys - we cannot rule Narnia. We'll only muck it up."

Susan shook her head, and smiled at Peter. "Aslan trusts us." Susan's trust in Aslan was whole and ready, and Peter was a little awed by it. "He would never have given us this responsibility if he did not think we were ready."

"I don't believe-" Peter started. Lucy, not usually so rude, interrupted Peter by placing her small hand atop his own.

"Believe," said Lucy. "It is all you need to do. We are ready for this task."

"We are. But maybe you are not," said Edmund. Before Peter could respond to such a hurtful comment, the sound of hooves against the ground echoed towards them.

"Your Majesties," gasped out Mister Tumnus. "The Calormenes have come from the North!"

Peter leapt up. "For peace?"

"No! For war! You must come at once!"

They left the remnants of their picnic behind, and ran for Cair Paravel. Peter ran, and beside him, Edmund ran faster. He turned and looked at his brother, and his brother looked back, gaze stony. Edmund did not say, 'I told you so,' but Peter knew he wanted to.

"I shall prepare the archers," said Susan.

Edmund looked away from Peter, and took Lucy's hand, urging her to run faster. "Lucy, you must take charge of the talking animals. Peter, I shall take the dryads and our friendly giant."

"Mister Tumnus, the centaurs," said Peter over the last of Edmund's words. "Susan, you need to find your horn."

"Of course," she said, "and you need to find your sword."

The Pevensies ran for Cair Paravel, and Peter knew that although he might not be ready to be King, together, the four of them were ready to face anything.

And it would be enough.

But that is another tale for another time.

 

 

 


End file.
